


Lockdowns and Phone Lines

by PengyChan



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley played himself, Humor, Lockdown Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PengyChan/pseuds/PengyChan
Summary: Crowley remembers he can move through the phone lines exactly fifty-three seconds after ending the call.[Based on the 30th anniversary special.]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56





	Lockdowns and Phone Lines

**Author's Note:**

> A quick thing based on _Good Omens Lockdown_. [If you haven’t seen it yet what are you even doing with your life](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quSXoj8Kob0&feature=emb_logo).

“I’ll see you... when this is over?”

“Right. Eeeh... I’m setting the alarm clock for July. Goodnight, Angel.”

Crowley ends the call and leans back on his seat with a groan, staring at the ceiling as he’s been doing for the past week. Two weeks. Was it three weeks? Ah, who cares. A bloody lot longer than he appreciates being cooped up in his flat, at any rate. Yelling at plants will keep you busy only up to a point.

Another groan, and Crowley reaches for his phone to set the alarm so he can go sleep off the rest of the lockdown. That’s when the thought hits him, exactly fifty-three seconds after ending the call.

_The phone lines._

Crowley sits up as though something gave him a jolt, and he finds himself cursing in every language known to man throughout history, and then some more known only in the lowest Circles of Hell. Why did he even bother thinking about _slithering_ to Aziraphale’s place when all he had to do was reaching him through the phone line? He wouldn’t be _technically_ going outside, and thus he’d break no rules. The perfect loophone. 

The Devil’s in the details, they say, and Crowley wishes he didn’t have the habit of seeing those details just _fifty-three seconds too late for them to be of any bloody use._

Crowley almost reaches for his landline phone, then pauses. It would look kind of dumb to call him back right away, and probably come across as rather desperate, and Crowley doesn’t much like the idea of cming across as either dumb or desperate. He’ll wait a little, and then call. Or, better yet, he’ll wait for Aziraphale to call. He called him first, surely he will call again.

He _really_ hopes he will call again. Just to check on him.

Crowley leans back on his seat again and waits, eyes drifting to the phone every couple of minutes as night passes, the stars fade, and the sun begins brightening the eastern sky.

* * *

Aziraphale rather regrets telling Crowley not to come roughly fifty-four seconds after the call ends, as he sits alone with his books and cake again.

Not that he minds being on his own with books and cake - he loves it, in fact - but poor Crowley sounded so terribly bored, so very lonely. Surely, it would cause no harm if Crowley went out just to get there. He couldn’t get sick, he couldn’t spread illness, and people _are_ allowed out for things like exercise or shopping. They have bent or downright broken rules before, so... so...

Ah, but then it was for the greater good, and this would only be for themselves and Aziraphale cannot bring himself to approve of it - even if there is a lot to be said for reading a book while nestled in the spires of the Serpent of Eden. But Crowley sounded so _bored,_ and their conversation was so brief... 

Aziraphale glances over at the phone, and he almost reaches for it. But Crowley said he’s going to sleep until July, and perhaps he’s already asleep - demons and angels only have to will sleep to come, there is no need to _wait._ Aziraphale would hate to wake him up. It would probably make him crankier. 

Best to let him sleep, Aziraphale decides, and goes to open the book he’d been reading before the call, sinking back in his armchair with a sigh. They will meet again once this is over, he decides, and he’ll have Crowley try out every single cake he’s learning to bake.

After all, after sleeping two months, he’s bound to be peckish upon awakening.

**Author's Note:**

> As per usual, Crowley played himself. It’s what he does best.


End file.
